nine2five 7 Sparring Partners
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: Sorry, no missions today. A good dose of Charah, Casey and Carina in LA fetching Manoosh, and Ellie wondering what went wrong.
1. The Setup

**A/N** This should be in the same timeslot as Nacho Sampler, but there really isn't a lot of that episode to carry over into this story, which makes it a lot harder to right. I'll just have to advance other plot points for a while. And wallow in some Charah for a bit.

I also got attacked by the conclusion of my fourth novel, Ghostkiller, and had to write that down as quickly as I could, so this story is a bit off my usual schedule. Sorry about that. I have no intention of dropping this series until the season is done, so I've got a way to go yet.

* * *

"_You're a spy?"_

"_I'm sorry, Charles Bartowski is not in right now–"_

"_Don't say I didn't warn you." _

"'_Unfair' is the mother of greatness, Charles."_

* * *

"Oooh, God, that feels so good," Chuck moaned as Sarah bore down on him yet again. He was shirtless, of course, to make it easier for her to slide her fingers, slick with sweat and…other things, over the smooth skin of his torso. She still wore her top, although it was so damp and clingy from sweat and… other things, that she may as well not have. Only the sheets, covering his legs and bunched about her waist as she straddled him, offered any semblance of modesty.

The TV at the foot of the bed came to life, but neither of them was looking that way at the moment. "I hope you've at least got the blinds drawn," said General Beckman to Sarah's back.

Sarah turned her head. "I'm just giving him a massage, General." She pivoted off of her husband, dragging the sheets away to reveal Chuck, prone and smeared with oils. "Get up, honey, it's the General."

"Cruel, cruel woman," he groaned. It wasn't clear whom he was referring to. "Do I have to move?"

Beckman raised her voice. "This is not a view of you that I appreciate, Mr. Bartowski."

"Gah!" Chuck rolled over and sat up, suddenly realizing that his boss was staring at his feet, pajama bottoms, and…other things. "Sorry, General, I was…really out of it there."

Sarah took pity on them both. "Chuck's been on punishment detail ever since the incident with Shaw, General."

The general squinted at him. "Are those bruises?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I'll have a word with his superior."

"Don't worry about it, ma'am," said Sarah, "I'd already planned a visit of my own." _They were told to take it easy on him. _"He comes home very stiff and my massages are very…therapeutic."

"I'm sure they are, Agent Bartowski, but in future I would appreciate it if you would treat them with the same degree of discretion as your other bedroom activities and engage the privacy screen."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"My eyes thank you."

"Do you have a mission for us, General?" asked Chuck.

Beckman seemed relieved. "I have a mission, Mr. Bartowski, but not for you. The Ring has been active in LA–"

"Please not another flight," whispered Sarah, already regretting the massage.

"Not for you, Sarah. This time I'm dispatching Colonel Casey and Agent—what is Carina's last name, anyway?"

Sarah made a face. "Miller is safest."

Beckman gave a 'whatever' sort of sigh. "I'm sending them to LA to extract a young MIT dropout who's been receiving Ring money. The team there will apprehend him and turn him over to us."

"So you're sending Casey and his beautiful partner to LA to extract a geek who appears to be on the verge of intercepting vital government secrets, if he hasn't already?"

"Yes, Chuck, that sums up the situation admirably."

"You're still upset you missed the wedding, aren't you?"

Beckman's scowling face disappeared.

"I don't think Carina will be falling in love with him, sweetie," said Sarah, kissing him. "Sleep with him, yes, especially the way I've been going into such spectacular detail about _your_ exploits in–"

He pulled back. "_My_ exploits? I have exploits?" He shook his head, regained his focus. "You've been talking to the Calendar Girl about us?"

She pulled back. "Calendar Girl?"

"You know." She clearly didn't, so he explained, "Another day, another–"

Sarah clapped her hands over her ears. "La-la-la-la I'm not listening!" He grinned at her, and she dropped her hands. "And no, Chuck, I haven't said anything at all. That's the beauty of it. Everything I don't say leaves room for her to use her imagination, which I'm sure is very lurid, vivid, and more detailed than anything I could invent."

"Hmmm!" Chuck wriggled his eyebrows. "Devilish thing, imagination." He leered at her damp shirt. "Let's use some."

She peeled the top off. "I'd rather use the shower." She walked away, shedding clothes.

"For the win!"

* * *

Chuck woke the next day, feeling very pleased with himself. Something about flying left Sarah still up in the air at the end, lately, but last night he'd managed to bring her back down to Earth in spite of the pain in his back. He smiled, almost laughed, but he didn't want to disturb the naked and pleasantly damp blonde currently spread all over him. _'Therapeutic?'_ That was one word for it. Fortunately that was General Beckman on the line last night, otherwise he'd never have been able to roll over!

"Thinking about Beckman?"

No surprise that she was awake, but— "How'd you guess?"

She put her hand on the center of his chest. "Your heart rate hasn't gone down, but something else has."

"You know me so well."

She slid her hand down his body. "Some things are harder to miss than others."

"Hello?" groaned Chuck. "Work day?"

"Yes, and…?"

He rolled out of bed before she could tighten her grip. "I have to take a sh_**ow**_er."

She lay there, uncovered, watching him move stiffly away from her. "We just took a shower last night."

"I know, and when _we_ take a shower _I_ end up all sweaty again." He sniffed at himself. "Plus I smell like vanilla." He got some new clothes and headed for the bathroom. She lay there, amazed, until she heard him start to sing. She didn't recognize the song, no surprise there, but it seemed to have a lot of 'forever's in it.

She got up, swooped on a robe, and left to make noise in the kitchen.

* * *

Chuck strolled into the kitchen, fully dressed in his workday casual-est, to find her still in her robe with his breakfast in hand. "Wow. Either you're taking casual Friday a little too far, which I doubt, since today's not Friday, or I need to find out where you get your schedules from."

She placed his food on the table. "No new schedule. I'm on escort duty today."

"You have a mission? Ow!" He rubbed his arm where she hit him as he sat.

"Not that type of escort, doofus, especially not now that I'm married." Something else to be thankful for. "I'm escorting the new girl, Hannah, getting her settled in around the office." A familiar face for her first day.

"She decided to join?"

"Better than WitSec. Plus it seems she got a personal recommendation from Charles Carmichael."

He shrugged. "Well, if I ever see her around, I'll say hi."

"You'd better not," said Sarah sharply.

"You're getting jealous _now_?"

_Of course not!_ "The less reason she has to connect Chuck Bartowski and Charles Carmichael, the better."

"I'm not saying anything, Agent Walker."

She ran her fingers through his hair. "I know you're not, Chuck. Good boy."

"Well, this good boy's gonna be late if he doesn't get a move on." He started eating faster, while still making sure to enjoy every bite as required by his ferocious cook.

* * *

He needn't have hurried. "What do you mean we're not doing an upload today? I'm the Intersect, that's my job."

Ellie gave him a sympathetic look. "I know, Chuck, but I'm concerned about the calibration of my equipment. I figured since the only mission anyone's on right now is a simple pick-up, this would be a good time to check the system."

"A simple pick-up? You remember what happened with the last 'simple pick-up' we did? What if they need back-up? Sarah got back-up. What kind of a message does that send?"

"It sends a message that you think Casey is a big boy and can take care of himself."

"But Ellie–"

"The answer is 'No', Chuck."

Chuck knew better than to argue with her in Big Sister mode. When he cleared the facility her screen lit up. "Well, Doctor?"

"He wasn't happy about it. I'm not happy about it."

"That makes three of us, Ellie, but this was your idea in the first place. I can only give you a few days. We need him online."

Not for the first time Ellie wondered about the arrangement they had. "Yes, General." Beckman clicked off, and Ellie got to work.

* * *

Sarah got to work a bit after Chuck, timing it so he would not be in the room when she got there.

A polite tap on the door got Dimples' attention the way nothing else could have. None of his guys would do that. "What can I do for you, Agent Carmichael?" He raised his head to look at her.

Sarah bristled. "That's Bar—right, yes. Carmichael will do. Moving on." She took a breath. "I was hoping to talk to you about Chuck's punishment duty."

"That's good, Agent Carmichael, I wanted to talk to you about it as well." Dimples looked at her with an expression of grave concern. "I know you and your husband want to keep him safe, but do you think you can get Tough Guy to take it easy? He's beginning to wear out the rest of the guys."

When Bartowskis are upset, they clean. Barred from the lab, Chuck took out his anxieties on the rooms full of helpless porcelain awaiting his attentions. In the second floor west men's, his phone went off. "Bartowski."

"Hey, Tough Guy, you tackle that stain in the second floor west men's yet?"

"Casey! How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess."

"This is what you called me for?"

"No. I called to tell you that I have a renewed appreciation of your skills, Bartowski. I just saw two losers who were even worse than you used to be today, and I didn't think that was possible."

"You went back to the Buy More?"

"They thought it was a good site for the seduction. I could have told them the error of their ways, but who asks the old-timers…"

"We still love you, Ladyfeelings."

"Hopefully, I'll forget you said that by the time I get back. Which could be a while. Carina came on so strong that your little geek clone ran squealing into the night. It was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen."

"Time to strut your stuff, big man, show those whippersnappers how it's done."

"Can it, Bartowski. Marines don't strut. We get the job done. Leave the strutting for those slackers in the army."

"Semper Fi."

Casey's parting grunt got cut off.

* * *

"Hannah! You look marvelous!"

Hannah smiled at her friend. "Yes, well, one thing about working for a private investor, you always have to look your best. I also had to pay for it all myself, but I least I get to keep it."

Sarah opened the door. "Your stuff all made it?"

"Yes, if the CIA ever wanted to change businesses they make excellent movers."

"And we already know where you live!" Somehow Hannah didn't find that as funny as Sarah did. "Do you know where you'll be working?"

"Given my background, they're splitting the difference between analytical and technical, to see which suits me best" She turned, putting a hand on Sarah's arm. Sarah suppressed her reflex to counterattack. "I got a recommendation from none other than Charles Carmichael himself!"

Sarah turned left, heading for a section of the building she didn't know very well. "I know."

"You told him?"

"He was already there, watching over me. Apparently when the pen shorted out it was because you got it to work long enough to show him I was all right. He was impressed."

"And that doesn't creep you out?"

"That he was impressed?"

"That he was watching you."

Sarah shrugged. "You get used to it. I've watched over him often enough. We're together even when we're apart."

"That's sad."

"You think so?"

"Togetherness by satellite hook-up? How can you hug him by telephone? I'm sure seeing a picture of you on his monitor was a thrill, but wouldn't he have rather held you? Or you him?"

The spy-cam had been Sarah's idea._ He would, and he does. _

Hannah continued on. "When was the last time you made him breakfast, or him you?"

"That's classified."

"And that doesn't sound strange to you? Are your wedding photos classified too?"

"We don't–" _have any._

"I know you _don't_, Sarah, I just think that you _should_."

Sarah frowned. "Should what?"

"Should something! Obviously this marriage of yours means a lot to you, but it sounds awfully virtual to me. Someone somewhere could flip a switch and it'd be gone, like an ebook. You're my friend, I don't want that to happen to you."

Sarah didn't either. It wouldn't. "It won't."

* * *

Chuck knocked on Dimples' door, not as lightly as Sarah but lighter than anyone else. "Here I am, boss. Who am I sparring with today?"

Dimples moved the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. "No one, Tough Guy. I'm taking you off punishment detail as of now. In fact, go home, take a few days off and get back in shape."

"But I'm _in_ shape–"

"That's an order, Tough Guy. Get out, go home, go anywhere but here. I'll see you Monday."

Chuck pulled up in front of Devon's house. He wasn't home, which Chuck more or less expected, and of course Ellie wasn't there either. It didn't matter; he wasn't there to socialize, he was there to use Devon's awesome collection of exercise equipment while his own house sat empty of everything that mattered to him. Sarah would be home soon. Until then he would use Devon's equipment and while he was at it, fold the laundry and vacuum the floor. It was messy.

But first, some lunch. He looked in the refrigerator. Lots of things to cook, but saw nothing ready to go except for a bottle of Devon's green goo. He poured himself a glass and drank it down.

* * *

"Ellie, can I talk to you?"

Ellie was more than willing to put down the results of her calibration tests. "Sure. What's up?"

"Is Chuck around?" Sarah whispered, as if Chuck would hear her through the walls if he was.

"No, we're doing calibration tests right now so I sent him back to IM. The equipment misbehaved during your last mission and I won't let that happen again."

"Didn't Chuck rip apart his console?"

"Yes! While my sensors were flatlining! According to this equipment my brother was brain-dead while he was saving your life. I don't want to risk another upload until I know why."

"What can I do to help?"

"Me? Nothing. But keep an eye on Chuck for me. Let me know if starts acting unusual in any way."

_We don't do 'normal.' _"Is beating up his sparring partners unusual?"

Ellie thought it over. "It could just be the fighting skills kicking in. He might just need to learn control."

Sarah nodded, relieved. "I can help with that." An enemy she could fight.

"Of course you can, you're awesome! Was that what you wanted to talk about?"

"Uh-uh. I wanted to ask you for a favor, but now I'm not sure I should."

"Shoot. You can't know 'til you try."

Sarah took a deep breath. "I want to get married."

* * *

**A/N2** Comments welcome as always.


	2. The Takedown

**A/N** What are you looking at? The story's down there.

* * *

"_You're still upset you missed the wedding, aren't you?"_

"_I'm on escort duty today."_

"_Someone somewhere could flip a switch and it'd be gone." _

"_I want to get married."_

* * *

Ellie gave Sarah a funny look. "Sarah…sweetie, you _are_ married."

Sarah slumped into a chair, looking a little lost. "It doesn't feel like it, some days."

Ellie reached over and took Sarah's hands. "This isn't about that video–"

That video. That wonderful, horrible video that Carina dumped on her head just a few weeks ago. It was a promise, that video, like the ring on her finger was a promise, and Chuck Bartowski always kept his promises. Sarah Walker/Bartowski/Carmichael, not so much. It was practically her job to betray people's trusts. At least she'd never actually gone so far as to marry a mark, but it didn't feel like she'd gone so far as to marry her husband either.

Chuck given her something real, that video, this ring, his word. What had she given him? A ring, yes, but what else? A ring without words behind it was just a ring. What words did she say? The man said some words and she had repeated them. Did she say "I do" or was it "I will"? She could remember the drive, raiding the nearest ATM for the money, even overtipping the witnesses. Why couldn't she remember the words?

Sarah shook her head, took back her hands, sat up straight. "It's about…words," she said at last. "I said them in front of a bunch of people I didn't know, who didn't know me. I've done too many missions like that, saying things I didn't mean to people I didn't know."

"You meant what you said to my brother, didn't you?"

_I can't even _remember_ what I said to your brother!_ "Yes, of course I did."

"But–?"

"But…I want to say them to _you_, too. Those people in Nevada, they went back to bed when we were done. If I fail to keep my word, or Chuck, what do they care? I want to say those words in front of somebody who'll hunt me down and kick my ass if I fail to live up to them."

Ellie nodded. "That would be me."

"And Orion behind you and Casey behind him."

"My brother has that effect on people."

"Don't I know it. Here I am, sitting here like a real girl, asking you to help me plan my wedding–"

"Oh is that what this is about?" said Ellie, deadpan, then she gave a brilliant Bartowski smile. "Of course I'll help. It'll be a change of pace, that's for sure, the wedding after the marriage."

"Please," said Sarah dismissively, "We had three first dates, two first kisses, and fell in love at first sight. For us this is normal."

* * *

Chuck backed into his driveway in spy-approved fashion, ready for a quick getaway, getting out hastily when he saw that he had a guest. "Morgan? What are you doing here? I thought you'd be halfway back to Hawaii with Anna by now."

Morgan mumbled something about Anna into his hand.

"In English, please?"

"I broke up with Anna!"

"After all she did for you? Why?"

"She made me look like a fool, dude, and I know you're thinking that's not hard, and I know it isn't, but it's different when it's something I do myself and when others do it to me. And can you hurry up with the door, 'cause I gotta pee real bad."

"Oh, yeah." Chuck pulled his keys out of his pocket and speared the keyhole. "So why are you here?"

"I wasn't gonna go back to Hawaii with her, are you nuts?" The door opened and he pushed it open desperately. "Where?"

Chuck pointed out the right door, and brought his friend's bags inside in order to avoid hearing the sigh of relief. "I can see where the flight would be a little uncomfortable," he called out over the sound of the sink.

"Yeah, if I break up with her before, she's sitting there mad at me, and did you know she's a government agent, now, man. Probably kill me and make it look like I died in my sleep. Or I could sit there all flight long wondering how to do it after we touch down, that's _if_ we touch down, 'cause I may lose my concentration and the plane falls…"

"Morgan, rooting for the plane will not keep it in the air."

"You know that and I know that but does the _plane_ know that?"

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Fine. So now here you are hoping you can crash with us for a while until you find your own place?"

"See? That's why we're best buds and hetero life partners. We're simpatico, we know exactly what the other guy's thinking, except for the 'getting my own place' part."

"You'll have to argue with Sarah yourself."

Morgan collapsed in a chair. "Fine, I'll get my own place." He looked around. "Is Sarah here?"

"No, she called, spending a little girl time with Ellie tonight." Chuck strolled over to the window, made sure his detail was in place.

Morgan smiled slyly. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Chuck held up a disk. "Only if you're thinking Call of Duty marathon!"

"Yes! High five! Other hand." The one without the game in it. "That's what I'm talking about!"

* * *

Ellie barely sat down at the table in the bar before the badgering began. "So, tell me about the two kisses," she demanded as soon as the waitress left to get their drinks.

Sarah frowned. "Damn, lost a nickel." She pulled a coin from one pocket and moved it to the other pocket.

"Huh?"

"I had a bet going with myself, would you ask about the dates or the kisses first? I was sure you were going to ask about the dates–"

"Oh, I will, believe me, but I was there for some of them and I can use my imagination for the rest. But knowing how much Chuck loves the PDA–"

Sarah grinned, remembering all the times she'd had to talk him into kissing her. "Which is to say, not at all."

"Exactly. So you see, you're my only witness."

"I was an active and very willing participant."

"That's what I said, so spill. Who started it, how long, did your toes curl…?"

"Uh, yeah." Sarah shook her head. "That first one, definitely a toe-curler. Uh, that one was mine, I thought we were about to die, and it just…happened. There we were with seven seconds on the clock, and then we were at minus three seconds and very…uncomfortable."

"Uh-huh, and what about Chuck?"

Sarah blushed. "Oh, he was _very_ comfortable."

Ellie laughed. "I gathered that. I meant, what about his kiss? I'm guessing you each had one."

Suddenly Sarah had a bit of a frog in her throat. Fortunately the waitress chose that moment to arrive. Half the drink vanished in a gulp. "Yeah, well, about that. That was, erm, for a mission, and Chuck had to be trained in Seduction Techniques…"

Ellie raised her glass to her lips. "Oh my god…"

"However bad you think it was, it was worse. They sent out the head trainer of the Seduction School, Roan Montgomery himself."

Ladies do _not_ spit. They swallow hurriedly. "They sent the head trainer–?"

"Well, we had to track him down, really. We found him under a bed, unconscious."

"Terrorists?"

"Alcohol." She looked into her glass. "Or the stewardess. We never asked."

"So he didn't…?"

"Oh, he did. That guy holds his liquor better than any man I've ever seen. He was up and badgering Chuck in a matter of minutes, wanted to see his technique."

"Chuck has a technique?"

Sarah took a deep breath, trembling slightly. "Oh, yeah."

Suddenly Ellie had a frog in her throat, and washed it away with a hasty swallow from her own glass. "Ah, erm, and, uh, were the toes curling there too?" The floor looked fascinating suddenly.

Sarah smiled. "I have absolutely no idea."

They toasted her lack of an idea. "That's a yes."

They signaled for refills.

* * *

Chuck's phone rang. _Oh thank God!_ He dropped his controller and left the game to Morgan for a while. "Sarah? You're where? No, don't worry, I'll find it. You didn't take your pill, did you? Of course you're not, you just sound that way. Fine, yes, I'll get Devon and we'll be right up." He ended the call. "Morgan, game over."

Morgan put down the controller, stood and saluted. "Are we at action stations, Captain?"

"If you mean, do we have to go out into the night, get Devon, find our wives, pick them up and pour them into bed, then yes."

"I'll get a bucket."

"Good man." He called Devon.

* * *

"—and that's when I realized I would have to lie to say no. It was the most incredible thing." Sarah's phone rang. "Chuck?"

"No, this isn't Chuck, didn't you even look at your screen before picking up?"

"Oh, Carina, hi! It's Carina," she said to Ellie, sitting all of two feet away, then put the phone back to her ear. "Ellie says she's gonna kick your ass for being mean to me." Ellie started choking.

"Hey Blondie, do me a favor," said Carina. "Take a picture of the bottom of the table while you're down there, I'll add it to my collection. Did you take your pill?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Yes, I took my pill. God, you sound just like Chuck."

"Oh, you mean your husband, the man you're supposed to be protecting while Casey and I are three thousand miles away?"

"Listen to you, being all responsible, who knew? Is this why you called, mother?"

"No, I called to tell you all about Casey's evening, since he's never going to mention this to anyone ever."

"Why, what's he doing, getting a lapdance?"

"He's cozying up to our _mark_, stupid. This Manoosh geek–"

"Nerd."

"On Chuck 'nerd' looks good, on this guy it's just another word for geek. Anyway, Casey's getting all buddy-buddy with him. Guess what they're talking about?"

Sarah shook her head, then stopped hurriedly when it did weird things to the room. "Uh-uh, not playing."

"Casey's raving about his good friend Chuck, got kicked out of Stanford and went to triumph and glory. Sound like anyone you know?"

"Please tell me you're recording this."

"Of course I–"

"Carina?" Suddenly Sarah sounded a lot more sober.

"Dammit! The Ring's coming, gotta go."

Sarah looked at her screen. _Call Ended._ "Poop."

* * *

Devon looked out the window. "Is this the place?"

"According to the GPS."

"How'd they end up here?" asked the doctor as he unbuckled himself.

"Knowing Sarah, it has no, um, fellow employees in it."

"It's about all I could afford on a Buy More salary," said Morgan from the back seat. "I doubt the Orange Orange pays better."

"I think you'd be surprised, Morgan. Wait here, we'll just be a moment." Chuck led the way into the bar.

"You couldn't leave him home?" muttered Devon.

"He may have to follow us back. Plus the TV hooks up to NORAD." He looked around and spotted his two ladies instantly. He stood over them, looking down with a smile. "If you'd warned me I could have brought my funnel and poured you into my car."

"I am _not_ drunk," yelled Sarah, trying to put her glass down. For some reason the table kept moving. She held up three fingers. "I only ordered two. I had to keep my edge." She belched lightly, like a lady.

"And the rest?" Chuck gestured at the scattering of glasses and beer bottles on their table.

Sarah cradled her head in her hands. "I have absolutely no idea."

Chuck glanced around the bar. "I do." He gripped her under the arm and hoisted her up, as Devon steadied Ellie. "Time to go."

"But we're talking!"

"I think you've said enough."

"Hey, mac, how about you let the ladies drink if they want to drink," said a well-lubricated jerk standing between them and the door. Chuck wondered how many of the drinks he'd paid for. "What are you, her brother?"

Chuck shifted his wife to his off-hand side. "No. I'm _her_ brother," he said, pointing at Ellie, currently draped over Devon. He pulled Sarah closer in a mild hug. "I'm _her_ husband."

"Yeah, like a hot babe like her would even look at a guy like you. Get lost, Romeo, and you too, Juliet. We're gonna be their dates for the remainder of the evening."

"You might want to rethink that idea," said Chuck, "Or my wife here'll kick your ass."

"You tell 'em, honey." Sarah aimed a kick at the lout and overbalanced, pulling Chuck off-balance with her.

The lout, being a lout, took advantage of the distraction and threw a punch at his unwary opponent. Devon could only watch as–

Chuck caught the lout's fist in his very large hand, not even looking. With a quick twist he spun his wife up and the man down hard onto a table, scattering drinks and patrons. One of the lout's fellow louts came to his defense, but Sarah stepped away from Chuck's side and took him down in three moves before drifting back into her husband's embrace.

Chuck closed his hand a bit, and his attacker groaned. "I know a very good hospital," said Chuck, "But it's not near here." He tugged to one side and the guy fell the floor and stayed there. Chuck pulled out his wallet, threw a twenty on the table. "Sorry about the mess."

Outside, Devon just stared. "Dude, that was just…awesome."

Ellie was staring too. "How did you do that?"

Chuck clicked the fob on her keys, located her car by the flashing lights. His wife's Porsche was harder to miss. He handed the keys to his brother-in-law and gave his sister a peck on the cheek. "How'd I do what?"

* * *

**A/N2** Yes, it was a Han Solo line. Comments welcome as always.

Slight edit, quick poll question here, please leave an answer in the comments, or send a PM. Did you think the line Chuck gave about hospitals at the end was at all threatening? I felt it was but I may be alone there. I'm trying to develop a tone for Charles that's like Chuck but a little harder.

Thanks for your help. I'll put this question in the next chapter too, for those who've already read this one.


	3. The Layout

**A/N** Quick poll question here, please leave an answer in the comments, or send a PM. Did you think the line Chuck gave about hospitals at the end of the last chapter was at all threatening? I felt it was but I may be alone there. I'm trying to develop a tone for Charles that's like Chuck but a little harder.

* * *

"_My brother has that effect on people."_

"_Damn, lost a nickel."_

"_Chuck has a technique?" _

"_How'd I do what?"_

* * *

It wasn't easy opening the door to the house while supporting a completely boneless wife, but they don't hand out Awesome points for nothing. If it was possible to have more than three sheets to the wind, Ellie had them there, and Devon wasn't about to leave her in the car while he unlocked the door. She flinched a little when he turned on the lights, burying her face in his neck as he carried her to the bedroom. It was almost romantic except he could smell the alcohol coming out in her sweat and that wasn't romantic at all. Ditto the undressing part once he got her into bed.

Once she was all tucked up he went out to the kitchen and put together a plate of hangover special: two aspirin, two B-Complex, and two Vitamin C, and left them on her bedside table with a glass of water. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and a soft "Good night, Babe" before turning off the light and leaving the room.

He dropped a pillow and some blankets on the couch, but didn't unfold anything yet. Instead, he turned on the TV and set it to channel 0. "General Beckman." The screen didn't light up immediately, but the progress bar told him something was happening. It was pretty late, after all. She could be asleep or something. _Do Generals sleep?_

The screen lit, so the answer was apparently 'No.' Or maybe it was yes, she was in her robe. "Yes, Ellie, what can I—Oh. Good evening, Dr. Woodcomb. To what do I owe the pleasure? Where's Ellie?"

"My wife is fine, General, a bit snoggered though."

"I wasn't aware that she drank."

"She doesn't, General, that's why she's snoggered." Under other circumstances, he would have smiled. "She and Sarah had a little bonding episode at a local watering hole that got out of hand."

"Out of hand? Sarah?"

"Well, not Sarah so much, I guess those alcodote pills of yours really work, but she was still pretty tipsy by the time we got there."

"You and Chuck had to retrieve your wives from a bar? How is this a matter of national security?"_Why are you calling me this way?_

"It isn't, but something happened during the fight–"

"You and Mr. Bartowski got into a fight?"

"Well, no, not exactly. There were these goons, they thought our girls were ripe for the picking–"

"And they were understandably upset when you two came along and disrupted their plans for a romantic interlude. I'm glad you weren't injured but I fail to see how this is a matter of national security either."

"I wasn't in the fight, General. Sarah took a guy down in three moves–"

Beckman sniffed. "She _must_ have been Yeltsined, then. I would have expected one."

"Chuck took his guy down in one. Less than one, really."

Apparently that was a matter of national security, at least as measured by the verticality of Generals. "Explain that, please."

Devon slammed a fist into his open hand. "He caught the guy's punch, General. Aikido-d him on to the table and left him on the ground."

"Chuck did this?"

Devon nodded. "He wasn't looking either."

Beckman almost smiled. "This is excellent news, Doctor Woodcombe. Your wife has been working to return his fighting skills, and it looks like she's succeeded."

Devon grimaced. "Not entirely."

"No?"

"After the fight, he didn't seem to remember he'd done anything. Ellie asked him how he did it, and he said 'Did what?'"

Beckman considered this for a while. "Make sure Ellie knows about this in the morning, please, Doctor. We've seen other cases of memory loss from a fight. It's possible it's just a glitch in her program. It's possible it's something more, but let's not borrow trouble."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

"You're welcome."

The TV blinked out, leaving Devon sitting there looking stupid. He sat back, grabbed his blankets and spread them over himself. He turned out the lights and lay there, looking at the ceiling. "Yeltsined?"

* * *

Morgan opened the door and stood to one side as Chuck carried his wife inside.

"Thanks, Morgan. Let me get some pills into her, while you get some blankets and stuff. Bedroom's over there." He gestured with his chin as he carried Sarah over to the kitchen counter. A plate of the same pills that Devon laid out already waited there, and Sarah was awake enough to take them before she went to bed.

Morgan was coming out as he brought her in. "Couch patrol, mon capitain?"

"Oui. We have a guest room, but no bed."

"Not a problem, dude. I've been exiled from the bedroom plenty of times, believe me, and yours looks a lot more comfortable than the monster in my…our…her living room."

"Good night, Morgan."

"Night, Chuck."

Chuck kicked the door shut and carried Sarah to the bed, got her undressed, and tucked her in. By the time he got in himself, she was already asleep, and he kissed her lightly on the top of her head. "Good night, Mrs. Carmichael."

* * *

The alarm went off with a sound of chimes, and Chuck woke with a headache. _Typical._ She did the drinking and he got the hangover. Sarah rolled her body over his and turned off the alarm, a much more pleasant sensation to wake up to. "Good morning, Mrs. Carmichael!"

"That's Bartowski," she said smiling, "And don't you forget it." She got out of bed.

"What, no kiss?" Headache gone, he rolled out of bed and followed his scantily-clad wife to the bathroom.

"Maybe you don't mind kissing someone who's breath could peel paint, but—Aiee!" She screamed.

Morgan, lying completely naked on the couch, sat bolt upright. "Ahhh!"

Chuck lunged to the front, ready to take—"Ahhh!" He turned, pulling Sarah's head in to his chest to shield her eyes as Morgan threw himself over the back of the couch. It didn't help much, since the couch was at an angle, but at least he tried. "Morgan! Since when do you sleep naked?"

"Dude, do you have any idea how hot it gets in Hawaii?" Chuck heard a fumbling sound. "Alright, it's safe now."

Chuck turned, to see Morgan wrapped in the throw from the couch like a toga. _Great. More laundry._ He stepped a little to one side, allowing Sarah to glare at her husband's best friend. Morgan moved behind the couch a little bit more.

Sarah grabbed Chuck by the collar and dragged him off to the bathroom. The sound of yelling was clearly audible through the walls, but only the word 'Hell' sounded like English. Morgan walked away and occupied himself with other things. Like getting dressed.

Sarah stalked out of the hall. "You!" He stood, awaiting his sentence. "Two words." She grabbed the throw from the floor and pushed it against his chest hard enough to hurt. "Laundry."

He raised a hand to hold the cloth. "What's the other one?"

"Apartment."

"Gotcha."

Chuck came out of the hall. "What is that wonderful smell?"

"Breakfast," said Morgan. "I know I'm not a breakfast chef but it's just a little something to say I'm sor–"

"You're forgiven," said Sarah. Without the alcohol in her system she was aware of how hungry she was, and fell upon the plates of eggs, bacon, and even pancakes like a wild woman.

Chuck clapped his friend on the shoulder with a smile. "Good work, little buddy." He looked up. "Hey! Save some for me."

* * *

Sarah caught up to her crossing the parking lot. "Hannah, hi! You're here early. Sucking up already?"

"All my friends are here."

Sarah swallowed a groan at her thoughtlessness, and determined to focus on the bright side. "I'm hearing a plural in there. So you're settling in all right?"

"Well enough. I was sort of hoping we could have done something to celebrate, last night…"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was out with a friend. We were planning my wedding." Sarah frowned. "At least, I think we were planning my wedding, I had kind of a lot to drink last night. I may have beaten somebody up, too."

Hannah laughed. "I'd believe that over the wedding. I thought you were already married."

"I am. Dead of night, hush-hush. I'm trying to make it more…real." Sarah looked down. "Thanks."

"I hope it's not so classified I'm not allowed to be there."

"If I have to leave off the President to invite you, I will."

"You know the President?"

"No, so that makes it easier."

* * *

"You're late."

"I had to come in by the back entrance, for my cover. Some of the guys decided to schmooze."

"Slackers. Okay, so let's get started. Sit down, Chuck." She reached over her desk and pressed a button as he complied. She sat opposite him. "This interview is being recorded for General Beckman's eyes only, do you understand?"

Reflexively he looked around, spotting the cameras. "I…understand but I don't know why."

"Chuck, can you tell me what happened last night?"

"Without causing undue embarrassment to wives and sisters who know where I live?"

"No one cares, Chuck."

"Then why the interview? It's okay you and Sarah got a little drunk, Ellie…"

"This isn't about us, Chuck. Tell me what happened last night. Now, Chuck!"

"You went out with Sarah, got intoxicnineded*, called us—which was a really good thing to do, by the way—and I got Devon so we could pick you up and bring you…home?"

She made notes. "Who called you, Chuck?"

He hated it when she made notes. "Sarah?"

"Was Morgan there?"

"Yeah, he had to drive my car back while I drove Sarah's Porsche." He gasped. "Please tell me I didn't hurt her car–"

"Focus, Chuck." She waited until he settled down. "What happened when you went into the bar, Chuck?"

"We went to your table, helped you stand—you were really hammered, sis—uh, and we got you outside and drove home."

"You were holding onto Sarah?"

"Of course."

"Which hand, Chuck?"

Chuck was right-handed, and he raised that one automatically. Then he stopped and raised his left hand instead. He stared at his hands, moved his arms up and down, as if muscle memory would help him decide.

"How much money do you have in your wallet, Chuck?"

He left off staring at his hands. "Same as I always, do, sis, I didn't buy anything yesterday."

"Count it, please."

Chuck pulled out his wallet and riffled through the bills. "That's not right." He fingered them again. "I'm twenty dollars short."

"You weren't around anyone who would take just twenty dollars from your pocket without telling you, were you, Chuck?"

"No, just…just family." He frowned, shook his head.

"What's the matter, Chuck?"

"I can't remember, sis. I got to your table, saw all those drinks, and I knew they were trying to get you guys vulnerable, and I—I got so angry, even though I knew Sarah could…but what if she couldn't, you know, and then we were outside." He looked up at her in fear. "Please tell me I didn't hurt anyone."

She smiled at him, not that she felt like smiling. "You didn't hurt anyone, Chuck. In fact you chose the least hurtful method of having a bar fight I've ever seen."

"The least hurtful method of having a bar fight is to not get into one, sis. Barring that, 'strike first, strike hardest.' The Han Solo rule."

"Okay, next least."

"What's wrong with me, Ellie?"

"I'm sticking with 'up' for the moment. 'What's _up_ with you, Chuck?' Because I refuse to believe there's anything wrong. If there was something 'wrong' with you, that bar wouldn't still be standing. This concludes the interview." Ellie reached over and pressed one switch, and then another. "Annie? I'm going to need that time slot."

Chuck groaned. "Not the MRI again."

"Full work-up, little brother. Nothing goes 'up' with you without _my_ permission."

* * *

Dimples looked up. "Agent Carmichael. I did as you asked. Tough Guy's off the punishment detail."

"Actually, Chief, I'm thinking I made a mistake, yesterday. I was wondering if I could be a part of the process, help him learn some control over what he's doing."

"If you could just get him to stop that'd be a blessing, Agent. He's like a machine in there."

"I'd like to see what he's been doing, if you don't mind."

"No problem. Let me call Pebbles."

* * *

Chuck's phone trilled as he staggered down the hall. Today's modern diagnostic methods may be non-invasive, but they left him sleepy as hell. "Hey Casey. What's up? I'm not working today."

"I'm just looking for some intelligent conversation at this point, Bartowski, but I can't get Walker to pick up."

"I'm tracking her down now, so we can get lunch."

"It's all right, moron, you'll do. Anything's better than these pinheads in Castle."

"What'd they do this time?"

Casey sighed. These clowns weren't worth a grunt. "Tried to open Manoosh's little box without putting it in a containment unit first."

Chuck laughed. Casey wouldn't have called if there's been a real problem. "So what was in it?"

"Shaving cream."

"I hope they thanked you."

"Of course not. They're all trying to reacquire the target before he gets—what the hell?"

"What?"

"There's a car full of Ring agents lying unconscious by the loading dock. You, get that footage! Scramble the team, lock those guys down. Gotta go."

* * *

Chuck wandered into IM, following the tracker in his watch. He checked the boss' office, but no one was there, not even the boss. He followed the sounds of some people sparring back in the ring, so he went there. Maybe he could get in on some of the action after all.

Sarah was in the ring, dancing around Pebbles. She was getting in some good hits but he was so big he shrugged most of them off. He was too slow to hit her but she had to tire sometime. Chuck stood and watched, enjoying the sight of his wife's body in motion. Skill, grace, and power.

Then she executed a maneuver that had caused him endless trouble, and in fact still couldn't get quite right. _Watch and learn, Bartowski._ Oh, yeah, Pebbles felt that one. He applauded.

Sarah stopped. "Chuck?"

Pebbles couldn't stop. Chuck saw the blow la—

"Chuck, stop!"

He stood over Pebbles' crumpled body, breathing slightly hard.

* * *

**A/N2** 'Intoxicnineded': one more than intoxicated.

Comments welcome as always.


	4. The Sucker Punch

**A/N** Quick poll question here, please leave an answer in the comments, or send a PM. Did you think the line Chuck gave about hospitals ("I know a very good hospital. It's not near here.") was at all threatening? I felt it was but I may be alone there. I'm trying to develop a tone for Charles that's like Chuck but a little harder. This story's going to take a more dramatic turn at some point, and I have to be ready for it.

* * *

"_Thank you for bringing this to my attention."_

"_I'm trying to make it more…real."_

"_Please tell me I didn't hurt anyone."_

"_Chuck, stop!"_

* * *

"What the hell was that?"

Sarah really didn't have time for this right now. "Dimples, I want you to go back to your office, right now, and prepare for the man with all the documents you'll soon have to sign." He seemed ready to argue, but 'Agent Walker' turned to look at him and he chose the better part of valor. She turned back once he was out of sight. "Chuck, look at me!"

Chuck didn't look at her. "I can't move, Sarah! The program won't let me move!"

She pulled out her phone from her gear on the floor. "Ellie! Chuck just attacked someone. No, I was sparring and he was defending me," she said, keeping her voice as level as she could. "Out but not dead. I got Chuck to stop but now he can't move. What does that mean, an endpoint?" She listened for a bit. "No, I didn't see anything like that, I saw him about to break the man's spine! Well, probably not but it's what I—you're kidding." She sighed. "No, you're right. It has to be me. Fine. Send two stretchers." She ended the call. "Chuck, can you close your eyes?"

"Yes."

"Close them. I need to get Pebbles out of the way."

"They're closed."

She came around into her husband's field of view, but he didn't move. Pebbles was big, but as most of her opponents discovered the hard way, she was stronger than she looked, and she didn't have to drag him far. She moved back, to stand in front of him. "Chuck, Ellie says you need to finish the routine, that's why you're locked up. You'll have to fight me."  
"No!" He shut his eyes tighter. "I don't want to hurt you!"

She took a deep breath, knowing that the program could. "That's what we're counting on. Open your eyes, Chuck."

"Sarah…"

"Now, Chuck!"

Chuck responded to female authority as he always had and always would. His eyes opened, and he saw her waiting in a fighting stance. Only the fact that she was much smaller than Pebbles and in a different position kept him from…killing her. "Sarah! It's not sparring!" Pebbles had said, 'take them all the way out', and Pebbles had been the opponent. Then.

She dodged a kick that would have broken her neck. Chuck was inside, and Chuck was holding back, turning a perfect opponent into a merely very good opponent. She threw a punch. The defense was perfect, only the offense had degraded.

She couldn't hit him. He wouldn't hit her. She was already tired and the program was tireless, and even with Chuck inside there was only one way for it to terminate. The only way to save Chuck would destroy Chuck.

She clenched her fists tight, and launched a flurry of strikes that the program blocked effortlessly. Her exhaustion made her slow, leaving an opening that the machine took advantage of.

"Sarah!" Chuck watched as his own arm lifted Sarah off the ground by the throat, choking her as she struggled. "Come on, Sarah! Kick me. Kill me if you have to!" He watched her struggles get weaker. "Do something!"

She went limp. Chuck's fingers registered no pulse. Chuck's eyes detected no breathing. "Sarah?"

The program terminated. Sarah dropped to the ground in a boneless heap and Chuck followed her down. He knelt by her side, sobbing. His wife was dead and he'd killed her. "It's not me."

"Tough Guy?"

"It's not me."

"Is she dead?"

_YES!_ Rage brought him to his feet in a leap but Dimples was ready for that, Sarah's tranq gun in his hand and two darts in Chuck's chest the second he presented a target. He leaned forward so that when he fell down it wouldn't be on top of her body. "Thanks…Dimples."

Darkness was never more welcome.

Dimples approached carefully, just in case Chuck was faking. No, pulse and respiration were slow, but good. Then he checked Agent Walker.

No pulse. No breathing.

Dimples stood and walked back to Sarah's things, putting down the gun and picking up her phone. He hit redial on the last number. "My name is Dimples," he said to the female voice that answered. "I'm Tough Guy's boss in IM. You're gonna need another stretcher, Agent Walker's dead. Yes, I'll wait."

* * *

Beckman looked unhappy. "Sarah's dead?"

"That's what he said."

The General frowned. "You're the doctor. Fix it."

* * *

Chuck woke up in a familiar place, the recovery room of the Intersect area. He looked up and saw a bag, an IV of some kind of liquid. He couldn't feel a needle, though his arm hurt a bit. He lifted his arm, but his wrist was chained to the bed railings so he stopped and put it down again and closed his eyes. He couldn't blame them.

Someone cleared her throat.

He cracked his eyelids, just enough to see the golden glow. His head hurt abominably, and he shut them again. "Haunting me already, are you?"

"Chuck, I'm not dead." _Please look at me._

"The Intersect killed you." _It's not me._

"The Intersect is a stupid program. And you're almost as stupid, but that's a good thing. Just as well you were so worried about killing me you forgot about the dose of fakeadeathanol in the FRODO." Finally he opened his eyes. "I injected myself before that last attack."

He remembered her clenching her fists so tightly. "You faked your death! Just like Kirk in 'Amok Time'!"

Now she could smile. "Yes, you're better. I'll go tell Ellie."

He watched her stand and walk, a little stiffly. Just before she reached the door he said, "Sarah? Can I ask you something?"

She turned. "Sure, Chuck."

"What's your real name?"

"Sam," she said automatically, and then her hands flew to her mouth as if trying to keep the sound in.

Chuck laughed. "You were so busy with the fakeadeathanol you forgot about the truth serum in your other hand."

She looked down, saw matching punctures on both palms, and fled the room before he could say anything more, taking her light with her.

* * *

"I want them _out_, Ellie!"

"We can't do that, Chuck. Dad's program only does the data. The best I can do is revert the code back to what it was in the beginning. If you try to use the skills you'll just knock yourself out."

In his universe that counted as good news. "That'll have to do."

"Don't worry, little brother, we'll get it right. Download commencing."

* * *

The upside to the CIA variant of the truth serum was that it wasn't lethal anymore. The downside was that the antidote tasted so bad you wished it was. Sarah would have preferred to wait it out-alone in a locked room-but they couldn't keep Dimples on ice that long. Typical Chuck to think of such a thing, but that was a dirty trick, weaseling her name out of her. Still, it was a small price to pay, it got the point across, and it's not like he didn't deserve to know. So many things he deserved to know, would she ever—The door opened, and Dimples entered and sat.

She looked him in the eye. "This interview is not being recorded," she said.

"I understand."

"I've read your file. You look good for a dead man." She smiled at him.

He smiled back. "So do you."

"Did you realize that you're number twelve on the all-time greats list at the Badass of the Week website?"

His voice said "I try not to think about the past" but his eyes said _Yes, I know_.

"My point being that you appreciate the need for…discretion…in certain matters. On the other side of that window are three people who collectively outrank God, who are very glad to know that you can maintain a decorous silence."

* * *

"_We outrank God?" said one of the two people behind the window._

"_You're just a doctor," said the General. "That leaves it all on my shoulders." She stood up straighter._

* * *

"Nothing I'm going to tell you now ever happened."

He maintained a decorous silence, nodding to indicate his comprehension.

"You heard me call him Chuck, but I recommend you forget that. 'Chuck' was his first identity, and that's the one I know best. He's a civilian. His path crossed ours during a mission. We were searching for an enemy cell in a suburban environment, and he'd moved in the week before. A pure, and unfortunate, accident. The bad guys were collecting lab specimens from their neighbors, test subjects for something they called 'the program'."

His eyes widened slightly, and she knew he'd heard Chuck use that phrase after all.

"He brought over some cookies to welcome us to the neighborhood." Her voice turned sad. "Such a sweet, lovely man he was. The enemy used him as cover to capture me, and my partner was taken by a ruse.

"They tried their program on him first, and by some miracle he survived it. Sort of." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "They turned him loose on my partner. Pebbles lasted longer. Then they turned him loose on me. That thoughtful, caring man was turned into a monster by monsters, but he…resisted. You call him Tough Guy, you don't know how right you are. He fought the program long enough for my husband to get there. Chuck—Tough Guy held me in his arms, shielded me as my husband used their own program against them."

* * *

_Ellie wiped her eyes. "I'm glad she took the antidote. This is a lie, right?"_

_The General stayed silent long enough to get her worrying. Finally she said, "The bad parts."_

* * *

"And you brought him here?" Among my men. Without telling me.

"My husband never forgets, and he always takes care of his own. We keep him safe, and the CIA needs to study the program. Counter it. Hopefully remove it."

"Did you know he was dangerous?"

"He's not," she shook her head, not answering the question but rejecting it. "He's been in fights, but only to protect others. He always uses the least amount of force, like with Shaw, and runs away. We were hoping your sparring would help him learn control. He wasn't supposed to be there. I should never have let him see me in a fight. His reflex is always to protect me."

"That's a hell of a reflex."

"He was just doing what you and Pebbles told him to do. He held back with me, as I hoped. Anyone else would be dead for real."

"And you expect them to trust him now? The second Pebbles gets out of traction–"

"That's why you're here. No one can know."

Dimples stared at her thoughtfully. "How many survivors of this 'program' are there?"

"Just one."

He nodded. "They'll want him back."

"They don't exist anymore, Dimples. We take care of our own."

* * *

"Hi, John. And who is this?"

"Haven't you met Carina before?"

"I meant the guy with the bag on his head."

Casey grunted in distaste. "He's not a 'who', he's more of a 'what'." He pulled the bag off. "This traitor is Manoosh, good for nothing except getting me a free trip to WeapCon. Got a new laser pen, not that I got a chance to use it, yet." He gave Carina a dark look.

She held up her hands. "Hey, on bad guy handcuffs, FRODO trumps laser pen every time."

Casey didn't grunt, he snarled, and turned back to Ellie. "He's all yours, now."

"For my sins?"

"For these," said Carina, handing her the fragments of a pair of sunglasses. "He built the Intersect skills into these."

Ellie eyed her new subordinate speculatively. "Did he?"

* * *

Chuck winced as he closed the door. "Morgan! Turn it down."

Morgan grabbed the remote and complied. "You're home early. You wanna play? I can always restart–"

Chuck talked as he moved toward his bedroom. "No, buddy, I'm gonna crash. Got a splitting headache. How'd the apartment-hunting go?"

"Good, good. Got a few leads, some places to see tomorrow."

"Good work, remember, you have to explain to Sarah if you're still here next week."

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder."

* * *

"Take those off, will you, John?"

Casey removed the cuffs, grumbling.

Ellie grabbed Manoosh by his collar and dragged him over to the screen.

"Hey," he yelled, "You need me! Only I can make those glasses!"

Ellie slammed him up against the wall. "That's your first mistake, traitor. Don't ever assume that I need you. Stand right there." She left him where he was and marched over to her desk. A click on her computer and the projector flared in his face. She stalked back, grabbed him again, and spun him around, mashing his nose against the wall. "Do you see that?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"I don't know!"

Ellie leaned in close, speaking into his ear. "It's the code for my father's greatest invention, his life's work. Code that you pirated to make your silly toys." She spun him around and pushed him against the wall again. "I don't care that you're a traitor. I don't care that you're a thief. I care about _that_. The only reason I'll bother sharing air space with you is because you've already done the work I need to have done. You're convenient. Don't ever think I need you." She shoved him over to her desk. "Sit down and get started. I'll get a proper workstation installed, preferably in another room. And remember, there's always one more camera than the ones you think you found."

She walked out, and Casey and Carina followed. She turned, suddenly nervous. "So how'd I do?"

Casey smiled. "You almost scared _me_. That'll keep somebody like him in line a good long while."

Ellie paled. "And after that?" She was no fighter.

"After that," said Carina, "If he's got the brains he seems to have, he'll be working because he wants to."

* * *

Manoosh sat at the computer, staring at the words and diagrams. He could see the parts of the code he'd recreated himself, but this was so much more—The screen went black.

HELLO MANOOSH

"What the hell?"

NO NEED TO CURSE

"…Sorry?"

I SEE YOU MET MY DAUGHTER

"Met her? I almost peed myself!"

GOOD. JUST DON'T MAKE HER MAD

* * *

Chuck woke to the sound of Morgan rummaging in his closet. "What exactly are looking for?"

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually getting bored with all those games out there. I was looking for something different, but now that I see your impressive collection of GameBoys, I'm thinking maybe I'll go old school for a while."

Chuck closed his eyes, waved a hand. "Have fun, buddy."

"Hey, Chuck, what's this?"

Open his eyes again? Maybe tomorrow. "What's what?"

"I don't know," said Morgan. "It doesn't look a GameBoy. What is it, some kind of prototype? How do you hold it."

"By the handle?"

"It doesn't have a handle, dude, just straps. Like a computer you wear on your wrist."

Chocolate brown eyes opened, and their owner sat up. "Oh yes," said Charles. "That."

* * *

**A/N2** _not...ready...for it..._

The Badass of the Week site is real, or it was. I don't know who's #12 on their all-time greats list though. This is a research-free zone!

Comments welcome as always.


End file.
